


Wrap You in Ropes of Pearls

by Sorryimnotthatkindofdoctor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fingering, NSFW – language, Smut, Unsafe Sex, dirty talking Dean (the best kind), episode-canon violence, oral (female receiving), toys/beads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 21:54:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7009627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorryimnotthatkindofdoctor/pseuds/Sorryimnotthatkindofdoctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In order to catch a demon, you have to get all dressed up and play the bait, something that Dean both appreciates and hates. Some flirting, some teasing, a little BAMF action and then Dean takes action of his own…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrap You in Ropes of Pearls

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Title comes from Lisa Kleypas’ A Wallflower Christmas
> 
> Teaser:
> 
> Dean took your face in his hands, his fingers easily able to grip just behind your jaw on both sides as his thumbs rubbed over your cheekbones, across your temples and, as you closed your eyes, the pale skin of your eyelids. His fingers were smooth from the oil and the smell filled your head as he leaned down to kiss you, his full lips firm and demanding.
> 
> “You and those damned beads,” he mumbled against your lips and you laughed, your breath fanning across his face. He used his grip on your face to urge you to stand, pulling you around until your back was to the table. He released you to grab your hips, boosting you up to sit on the sturdy surface. Dean rubbed his hands up and down the soft fabric of your black yoga pants. 
> 
> “If I’d known you had a pearl kink, baby, I’d have brought these out a long time ago,” you said, wrapping the necklace around your fingers as you brought your hand up to his face. You brushed your fingers across his cheek and down his neck, letting the beads roll around on his skin. Dean practically growled and pressed forward, using his body to force your legs further apart as he pulled you close to him.

“C’mon, Y/N,” Dean called at you through the door of the motel bathroom.

“Patience is a virtue, Dean,” you called back, fastening your earring into place as you gave yourself a final once over in the mirror. You couldn’t quite make out what Sam said in response to you, but you did hear the dull thud of something being thrown across the room, so you assumed it was some sarcastic crack at his brother.

“Alright, alright,” you said, opening the door and stepping out. “I’m ready.” There was a moment of silence as both brothers looked at you. Sam whistled under his breath, but Dean was silent. You watched as he slowly sat up from where he’d been reclined on the bed, the muscles in his stomach bunching with the movement. You turned to face him fully as his eyes slowly travelled from your head to your feet and back. You grinned and watched as he shifted slightly, dropping one hand to his lap.

“Damn,” Dean muttered, finally and you winked at him.

“Alright, let’s go get us a demon,” you said, twitching at your black sheath dress a little to make sure it was fitting right.

“Hold on,” Dean and Sam both said at the same time. You put your hands on your hips and raise an eyebrow.

“We’ve already been through this, guys. The demon only goes after women, especially women who are looking to live a certain type of lifestyle. So unless one of you is planning to go drag…” you let your words trail off.

“Well, it’s not like Sam doesn’t have the hair for it,” Dean said as he shifted his legs off the edge of the bed. Sam’s bitchface was no less glorious than you expected.

“But you don’t look like the women he’d go for,” Sam said, unconsciously tucking his hair back behind his ears.

“Please,” you said, sitting down on the bed to grab your heels and put them on. “I am this demon’s wet dream.” Dean shifted at that and Sam huffed, his hands again going to move his hair back.

“He goes after women looking to basically be the next Kardashian,” Sam continued. “You don’t look like you need the help.”

“Aw, thanks Sammy,” you responded, giving him a wink. “But actually, everything about this says I’m trying too hard.” You held up one of your shoes. “This shoe? I painted the bottoms with red nail polish so they look like Luis Vuittons, but anyone with an eye for style will know they’re fake. This dress?” you plucked at the tight black fabric that clung to your body. “It looks like the new sheath from Herve Leger, but the fabric is clearly not that kind of quality. The purse looks like a Michael Kors bag, but it’s a clear knock off, and these – ” you lifted the multiple strands of pearls that hung around your neck, but Dean jumped in before you could finish.

“Let me guess – pebbles from the gutter you spray painted white?”

“High-end Mardi Gras beads, you ass,” you said. “All they cost was a few drinks and some of my self-respect.” Dean blinked at that, his fist tightening in the bed coverlet before relaxing.

“And you have so many of them because…” he asked, his brain obviously picturing how you might have acquired so many of the pearl-like strands.

“Everyone knows that, “A woman needs ropes and ropes of pearls,” you quoted, placing your hand on your shoulder and affecting something like a French accent for the last half of the sentence. When Dean just raised an eyebrow so you added, “Coco Chanel.” Dean looked to Sam for help and you sighed. “Look, my point is, everything about me says I’m trying to look well-to-do and stylish, but I’m a total fake. That demon will be drawn to how desperate I look.”

“Fine,” Dean said, his eyes flashing to you every few seconds. “But you do not try and take him alone.” He clambered off the bed, catching his jacket as Sam threw it at him. Dean shrugged into it and grabbed the bag of weapons laying on the opposite bed. You stood up, stopping in front of Dean as he turned to look at you.

“I know, I know,” you said, smiling as you put a hand to Dean’s shoulder to rearrange his collar. You’d been hunting with them for a few months and it was always the same warning. “No worries, boys. We know where he hunts. I go in, a little flirting, a few drinks, then you punch the black-eyed bastard while Sam says some Latin and boom – no more demon. Eazy peazy, lemon squeezy.” 

***   
Of course it wasn’t that easy. The flirting had gone well. Just like you’d said, the demon had seen you walk in and was at your side within seconds, striking up a conversation. You’d played the role to the hilt, alternating between shy and flirtatious. It had helped that you could see Dean sitting at one of the tables outside the bar, keeping watch.

The two of you had been sleeping together off and on for weeks now – nothing serious, but definitely something you were looking to pursue. So it only made sense to use him as a gauge for how well your flirting was going. Occasionally, when you flirted with the demon, you had made sure to flick your eyes out to catch Dean’s. A quick lick of your red lips had Dean shifting in his seat. Dean’s eye had twitched when you ran your hand over the demon’s arm. And when you’d playfully bit one of your strands of pearls between your teeth, Dean had actually stood up and glared at you.

With all that and a few shy confessions about how you longed to not wear knock-off brands and get the fame and attention you so deserved, it hadn’t even been hard work to get the demon to press you into coming out back with him where there was a crossroads of the dirt alleys behind the bar. Sam had been waiting, the salt lines poured everywhere but the back door so that when you walked out, he could finally box the demon in.

After that, well… things could’ve gone better, but they could’ve gone much worse, too. Dean did get to punch the black-eyed bastard, and Sam had said the Latin that finally caused the demon to smoke out and leave behind a very confused legal assistant who actually lived four states over. But in between all that Sam had been thrown into a wall, Dean had gotten up close and personal with a pile of packing crates and you’d discovered the effectiveness of spike heels in getting a demon to release a choke hold.

You stood in the alley after the legal assistant had run off, assessing the situation. Sam was helping Dean up as you looked at your pearls – the demon had wrapped his hand in one of the strands during the fight and broke it, but you thought you might be able to repair the damage. You slipped it off, wrapping it around the fingers of one hand to keep from losing any of the beads.

“Can we go home now?” you asked, voice scratchy after being choked. Dean walked over, his hand moving to tilt your chin up and look at your neck. He nodded to himself and lowered your head, letting his thumb wipe at the blood at the corner of your mouth where a wild swing had split your lip. You reached up to dust your hand over his head, knocking loose dirt and splinters from his hair.

“You good?” he asked. You nodded as he handed you the heel you’d jammed into the demon’s neck during the fight. You put a hand to his shoulder for balance as you slipped the heel back on.

“Nothing a hot shower and some whiskey won’t cure,” you answered, causing him to smirk. 

“Sounds like a plan,” Dean agreed, and then the three of you were walking back to the Impala, Dean bitching Sam out for taking so long with the exorcism incantation and Sam bitching right back about Dean getting old and not throwing his punches faster. They kept it up all the way back to the motel, only stopping when you jumped out of the barely-stopped Impala and raced to the room, beating both of them into the shower.

“Not cool, Y/N!” you heard Dean shout through the bathroom door as the hot water cascaded down your skin. He continued muttering for the rest of the evening, but when you’d all finally gotten cleaned up and ready to go to sleep he’d still laid out some Motrin for you and gently rubbed liniment into the dark bruises forming on your neck before stretching out in the bed he and Sam were sharing (damned motels with only one room vacant, you thought again). 

You listened to the breathing of the two men slow down and even out, a small snore emanating from Sam every few minutes. The liniment warmed the skin of your neck and you relaxed back into the pillows, letting the heat and herbal smell of the stuff lull you into sleep.

***

Two days later, you were back at the bunker. Sam was researching new possible cases and Dean was cleaning his guns, the smell of gunpowder and gun oil heavy in the air of the library. It made quite the contrast to the acrylic smell wafting over from your side of the table as you touched up the red paint on the bottom of your high heels from where they’d gotten scuffed on the last hunt.

“Do you two have to do that in here?” Sam finally asked, throwing an impressive scowl at Dean’s oily towel and your fanned out fingers. You’d figured it wouldn’t hurt to do your own nails since you had the bottle out. You brought your fingers up and blew across them in an attempt to harden the almost-dry coating.

“I get lonely,” you said, your voice still a bit deep and scratchy from where the demon had choked you. The bruises across your throat had been extraordinarily dark and purple the day after. Now, they were still fairly dark, but thanks to the liniment Dean kept rubbing into them they weren’t all that painful.

“Yeah, Sammy… We miss you,” Dean added, his forearms tightening as he slid the pieces of his gun back together. Sam huffed a breath out and went back to his typing as Dean chuckled at him. You put the final coat of red on the bottom of your heels and turned them upside down to dry. You reached into your bag to put the nail polish up and felt something wrap around your fingers. You drew them out, finding the broken strand of your necklace.

Dean’s fingers stuttered as he wiped the barrel of his gun, his eyes watching your hands as you played with the long strand of white beads. You bit at the inside corner of your mouth as you tried to figure out a way to tie the ends back together. Dean grunted to himself as he shifted in his chair, causing you to look up. His eyes darkened as you smirked at him, following his gaze to where the beads wrapped around your fingers.

“Why’d you keep those?” he asked, voice gruff. “They’re busted.”

“I know,” you replied, feeling the ache in your throat. “But I thought maybe I could save them.”

“They’re cheap Mardi Gras beads,” Dean said, wrapping a cotton patch around the ramrod and sending it down the barrel.

“Sentimental value,” you shot back. The beads clattered lightly on the table as you laid them down, spreading them out to their length.

“Flashing yourself to a street of strangers for plastic beads creates sentimental value?” Dean smirked.

“Don’t you judge me, Dean Winchester,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “Anyway,” you let your voice taper off as you picked up one end of the beads, bringing it to your mouth to suck the string into your mouth and roll it on your tongue to get the frayed ends together. Dean dropped the ramrod to the floor, clearing his throat as he bent over in the chair to pick it up.

“Anyway?” he prompted after a few seconds of silence.

“Anyway,” you continued, “That was an amazing weekend. It may not be sentimental, but these beads do bring back some awesome memories.” You sucked the string and one pearl back into your mouth and winked at the elder Winchester.

“That’s it,” Sam said, shutting his laptop and getting up. You and Dean both shook a bit having forgot that he was actually there. “I’m going out.” 

“Sorry Sam,” you said with a giggle.

“Don’t go, Sammy,” Dean said sarcastically, before shouting after him, “I’ll miss your musk!” Sam answered by flipping Dean the bird as he headed towards the garage, laptop in his bag slung over his shoulder. As the door closed, you laughed outright before turning back to Dean, watching as he finished putting his gun back together. You waited a few seconds, but Dean wouldn’t look at you, now seemingly focused solely on the work in his hands.

“Um… Dean?” He didn’t respond. You cleared your throat and started wrapping the beads around your fingers again, your brain quickly supplying you with all the ways you’d just managed to piss Dean off. “I guess I’ll just…” you started to rise, but Dean’s voice stopped you.

“Fucking finally,” he said, snapping the last piece back in place with practiced precision and running the gun through a lock and load routine to ensure it was in working order before putting it down on the towel. He wiped the excess gun oil off his hands with rough efficiency. Then he was up and around the table, pulling your chair back and stepping in between your legs.

Dean took your face in his hands, his fingers easily able to grip just behind your jaw on both sides as his thumbs rubbed over your cheekbones, across your temples and, as you closed your eyes, the pale skin of your eyelids. His fingers were smooth from the oil and the smell filled your head as he leaned down to kiss you, his full lips firm and demanding.

“You and those damned beads,” he mumbled against your lips and you laughed, your breath fanning across his face. He used his grip on your face to urge you to stand, pulling you around until your back was to the table. He released you to grab your hips, boosting you up to sit on the sturdy surface. Dean rubbed his hands up and down the soft fabric of your black yoga pants. 

“If I’d known you had a pearl kink, baby, I’d have brought these out a long time ago,” you said, wrapping the necklace around your fingers as you brought your hand up to his face. You brushed your fingers across his cheek and down his neck, letting the beads roll around on his skin. Dean practically growled and pressed forward, using his body to force your legs further apart as he pulled you close to him.

A groan tore from your throat as he kissed you fiercely, one hand dropping to your chest to rub at your breasts. You broke from the kiss, tilting your head back. Dean’s lips were wet and warm as he carefully traced the line of bruises on your neck before nosing at the loose collar of your t-shirt. You eagerly held your arms up as he urged you so that he could pull it off you. Your sports bra quickly followed, leaving you open to his view and the cool air of the library.

Dean leaned down and sucked a nipple between his lips, pressing the flat of his tongue against the nub. He pulled off and blew on the wet flesh before reaching for your hand and bringing the necklace up to your other breast. 

“Use the beads?” he asked, voice low and quiet as he stared at you. Your breath hitched as you nodded, cupping your breast and feeling the beads roll and shift on your flesh. You moved your fingers to trap your nipple between two strands of the pearls and squeezed, feeling the pinch and pull of the beads. You looked down at yourself, seeing the red of your newly-painted nails stand out against the pale flesh of your breast and the shiny white surface of the beads.

“Like that?” you asked, watching as Dean panted. He nodded, leaning down to nibble at the flesh across your ribs. He put a hand on your shoulder and pushed so that you lay down flat on the table. Dean’s other hand went down to rub at your aching sex. You hissed, rocking your hips into the friction, wishing you weren’t still half dressed. Dean licked up your ribs, the tip of his tongue playing at the curve of your breast before he fastened his lips to your skin and sucked a bruise into the crease.

“Dean, please,” you moaned, as he moved down, his tongue flicking in and out of your bellybutton. Dean stepped back, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your yoga pants and underwear. He pulled both down quickly, all the way off your legs and dropped them to the floor before stepping back in, his hands kneading at the fleshy part of your thighs. He hooked your chair with his foot and brought it around so that he could sit down, his face level with your pussy.

Dean adjusted the chair and grabbed at your legs, bending your knees and placing your feet on the arms of his chair. He hooked one arm under your thigh, pulling himself closer to your body. You looked down at him, sitting up on one elbow to watch as he bit at the inside of your thigh before letting his tongue trace the crease of your hip down to your sex.

“God, you smell so good,” Dean whispered against you, breathing deeply of the musky smell of sex and heat. He pushed forward, licking at the folds of your pussy before doing one long stripe with his tongue up until he hit your clit.

“Oh shit,” you said, dropping back down to the table. Dean inched closer, licking and sucking at you. He brought his other hand up, laying his arm across your hips and using his fingers to part your flesh and reveal your clit. You moaned and cursed, continuing to play with your nipples as Dean switched between flicking the nub of nerves with the tip of his tongue to taking it between his teeth and gently pulling at it. 

“Please… Ah, fuck, Dean,” you moaned, feeling your body grow damp with sweat. You forced yourself to sit up, looking down at where he sat bracketed between your thighs. His face pushed further into your body, mouth chasing your pleasure as you groaned and squirmed. You reached down and grabbed his hand away from you, pulling his fingers up to your mouth. Dean pulled back slightly to watch as you drew his two first fingers into your mouth. His pupils were blown dark with lust as you pressed his fingers to the roof of your mouth and held them with your tongue as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked around them. You ran your hand down his arm, letting the beads wrapped around your fingers roll over his tensed muscles.

When you released his fingers, he immediately lowered his arm under your thigh and began to press the wet digits against your aching center. Your free hand dropped to grip the table as he pushed first one then the second inside you, his fingers crooking and jerking up slightly as he sought out your g-spot. After a few moments, he brought his face back to you, once against lapping at your clit while he scissored his fingers inside you. It wasn’t long before you could feel that heat in your belly growing back into a fire you almost couldn’t stand. Your toes were practically curling around the arms of the chair.

“Dean, I’m close,” you panted, bringing your hand to wrap in his hair. Dean hissed as his hair was pulled by the beads still wrapped around your fingers. He moved back, his fingers still inside you as he looked at your face, then to the beads around your fingers. Slowly, he pulled his fingers from your body and reached for your hand. Your breath hitched and he paused, making eye contact with you as he pulled the beads from your hand.

“Ok?” he asked. You blushed, imagining what he was asking. Your brain reminded you that you were laid out naked on a table in the library. You shivered, chill bumps breaking out over your body. You thought of what he could do with those beads, of how they’d feel… Your eyes slipped closed.

“Y/N?” he said softly, bringing your eyes back to his. You nodded, letting go of the last of the beads from your fingers. Dean grinned up at you, letting the beads drape over his fingers as he rubbed the back of his hand up and down your thighs. You felt the beads pressing indentations into your skin and your legs fell open wider. Dean took the hint and brought his hand to your wet pussy. 

“Ah…” you moaned, feeling the coolness of the beads as they rolled over the folds of your flesh. Dean kept up a slow, steady pressure, just pushing the beads against your skin as he moved his hand back and forth. Your head dropped to your chest, breath fanning out over your skin as you watched what he was doing to you.

“I’ve been thinking about this ever since the other night,” he said, kissing your knee. “What you said – about women and ropes of pearls.” He rubbed his cheek against the inside of your knee and you hissed as he pressed the beads against you harder. “Fuck,” Dean murmured. “Just got this image of you lying naked, covered in pearl necklaces. All over your breasts, down your thighs…” his voice dropped off as he used both hands to arrange the necklace into a double-strand now, a hand holding each end. 

“Strings of pearls rubbing over your pussy,” he continued as he put one strand on either side of your clit and began to pull in a soft sawing motion, dragging the beads up and down through your folds, your clit swelling and pulsing between them.

“Oh, fuck,” you said, eyes fastened to where the pearls ran over you, the beads beginning to glimmer as they were coated in your wetness. You began to keen, your skin drawing tight to your body as Dean pulled the pearls faster and faster.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Dean said, leaning down to suck your clit into his mouth as he pushed harder at the beads.

“Shit!” you screamed, your voice echoing off the bunker walls. You fell back against the table, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Dimly, you heard the beads clatter to the floor as Dean stood, grabbing under your thighs and wrapping an arm around your back as he kicked the chair out of the way. You clutched at his shoulders as he stood, holding you to him. His strides were long and fast as he moved down the hall towards his room, not stopping until after he’d kicked the door closed and laid you down on his bed.

You tried to slow your breathing and shivered with the feeling of electricity on your skin as Dean made quick work of tearing off his black t-shirt and undoing his jeans. You watched through hooded eyes as he pushed his jeans and boxers down his hips, his cock red, heavy, and hard against the base of his stomach. Within moments, he was naked and kneeling on the bed, hovering over you.

Dean cupped your dripping sex with his palm, feeling it flutter against his hand as the remaining edges of your orgasm pulsed through you. He took the wetness he gathered and grabbed his cock, stroking it up and down to coat it with your juices. You brought your hand up to join his, offering a slightly tighter grip as he bent down to kiss you. You pushed at his shoulders until he rolled over on his back, smiling as you threw a leg over his body, straddling his hips. Using your grip on his member, you held it still as you slowly sank down onto him, not stopping until he was completely buried inside your heat.

You groaned at the stretch, feeling him pressing against your walls. You held yourself up on shaking arms, hands planted on the firm muscles of Dean’s chest. Dean barely allowed himself a moment to adjust to being suddenly surrounded by your wet heat before he rolled his hips up into you, the hardness of his pubic bone rubbing perfectly across your sensitive clit.

“Fuck,” you said, your arms giving out. You dropped down, your breasts pressing against his chest. Dean wrapped his arms around your body, one hand splaying over your shoulders as the other arm fit itself firmly across your lower back holding you in place. His hand gripped your ass, pulling you open as he began to piston his hips up into you. You felt your mouth drop open, slack jawed at the feeling of his cock driving up into you, over and over, hitting just right. Dean dropped both arms to wrap around your waist, holding you hard and fast as he shifted his body so that he had even more leverage to drive his hips into yours.

“Feel so good, baby,” he panted as his hips pumped up, moving his cock into you again and again. “So wet for me.”

“Dean,” you moaned, biting at your lip.

“Cum for me, baby. I know you can – come on, one more.” Dean’s motions began to stutter as he neared his own release. He moved one hand between you and began to rub at your clit, sometimes pinching the folds of skin over the top of it and rubbing at that with the pad of his thumb. “Cum on my cock, baby, come on.” You felt his fingers squeeze your clit as he pushed his cock into you, the head of it firmly pressed against your g-spot and everything in you stopped. You didn’t scream, you didn’t curse – you froze, pleasure crashing through your paralyzed frame. 

“Yes, fuck,” you heard Dean groan as your pussy gripped his cock tighter, the evidence of your satisfaction dripping down onto his thighs. “Fuck,” he groaned and then you felt him explode inside you, his heat coating the inside of your body and mingling with your own. You went limp atop him as he continued to slowly stroke himself in and out, riding out the final waves of bliss before he gently rolled you over and pulled out of your body. 

After a few moments, Dean got up and fetched a few wet clothes from the bathroom. He cleaned himself up and then gently ran the wet nap of cotton over your over-sensitive flesh, washing away the evidence of your combined desires before helping you crawl under the covers and joining you.

“Damn,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. Dean raised up and traced the bruises on your neck.

“You’re okay, right?” he asked. You nodded, only wincing slightly. The damaged tissues of your throat probably hadn’t needed you screaming, but you’d be damned if you’d trade tonight’s events for anything. Dean narrowed his eyes before reaching into his bedside drawer for the liniment. You let his gentle touch soothe the lust from your skin, leaving you completely boneless. He dropped behind you when he was done, pulling you into his chest and resting his face in the crook of your neck.

You woke with a start as you heard the door to the bunker slam closed and realized Sam had come back. 

“Dean,” you whispered, hearing him murmur from his place behind you. “Did we leave my clothes and…” Just then, Sam’s voice echoed down the hall.

“Really guys? In the library?” There were a few moments of silence before a scandalized yell hit your ears. “Oh God what did you do with these beads? They’re wet… Oh, God!” Dean chuckled as you buried your face in the pillow, feeling the blush run over your skin.

“Not cool, guys!” Sam shouted and you could hear water running as he scrubbed at his hands. “Not cool!”

Dean just laughed and pulled you tighter.

“I see what you meant about those beads making awesome memories,” he said, kissing your shoulder. You elbowed him in the ribs lightly.

“Shut up.”

END


End file.
